


Just a Push

by knotted



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: "that baz fellow is PlooOttTinG, Crushes, Fluff, I don't really know what this is, M/M, angry!simon, or what it's gonna be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knotted/pseuds/knotted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baz has a crush on his roommate. Baz can't accept this. Baz pushed his roommate down the stairs. Baz has decided he probably shouldn't bother his roommate anymore. Now his roommate is even more annoyed and wondering just what Baz is up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

When Basilton realized that he was probably in love with Simon Snow, he was on the fence about how to act around his roommate. He knew he had to formulate some sort of contingency, in case he slipped up and the truth came out, but all Baz wanted to do was kiss Simon (just a little bit). He couldn’t focus on much else.  
Before, his feelings had been masked so wonderfully. They’d been tied down by the idea of hating everything Simon stood for, and he had been hellbent on destroying Simon. Then, it finally happened that Basil was able to hurt Simon, and it hurt Baz just as much. Simon was limping around campus now, and Baz’s heart was aching. He hadn’t said a word to Simon about it since. He was filling up with apologies and was threatening to spill over. Baz looked over at the injured boy, who was studying at his desk, and hoped Simon wouldn’t notice how worried he looked. Simon shut his book and caught Baz’s stare.  
  
“Satisfied, Basil?” he asked with a sigh at the end.  
  
“What?” Baz replied, straightening up how he was sitting on the bed.

“You’ve done it. You pushed me down the stairs. You weakened me,” Simon continued.

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Snow.” Basil swallowed the upcoming apology. “You and your leg’ll be magicked to 100% in no time and you’ll go back to being Watford’s wonder boy and the World of Mages’ one and only saving grace.” Baz hoped that he sounded mean and sour. Snow was shaking his head.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just rub it all in my face.”

“I wasn’t raised to be rude to the sickly.”

“But you’re trained to be rude and only rude to me.”

“I don’t know why you’re getting so passionate over me not spitting on your injuries, Snow. Is this a kink of yours? Perhaps you enjoy my attention?”

“Oh, just… Sod off,” Simon retorted, and then went back to his studying.

Baz was silently relieved. Simon would never catch on. And then Baz was upset. Simon would never catch on. He would come back to this thought far too often, because the boy that he fancied most was so close and so out of reach.

Baz resorted to avoiding the person and topic of, Simon Snow altogether. Dev and Niall congratulated him on Simon’s broken leg until it was fixed, but still whenever they did Baz would glare at them and they’d shrug. 

“He’s plotting something else,” he had heard Simon whispering to Agatha when Baz passed them in the hallway. He heard Agatha laughing, and then saw her pat Simon’s arm. Baz shook off the feeling of wanting to be able to do that, because that was an insane thing to think anyway.

_I’d be bloody_ honoured _to pat Snow’s arm._

He kept feeling that way. He was working on not feeling anything towards Simon at all. It was very much a “baby step” program, starting off with as little gazes over to the other boy as possible. He hated seeing Simon and Agatha together, but that was all he ever saw anymore (in his… limited gazes at Snow. He wasn’t looking more than twenty times a day, honest!). 

He hated when she’d touch him like that. He hated when Simon would put his arm around her during meals, and when he’d kiss her head. It was disgusting, because it made Baz’s mind go wild with fantasies where he’d be the object of Snow’s affection. Baz shook his head, as if it’d make all the thoughts go away.

After Simon had healed, things went back to being as normal as they could be. Baz would be in the catacombs with footsteps echoing his own (Simon was not as sly as he thought). Simon would bump and shove Baz in the halls without the complications of crutches. The only thing that was different was that Baz never did anything in return. The baby steps had gotten him to the point where he barely acknowledged Simon anywhere but in his head. He didn’t want to risk being the one to kill Simon Snow, not anymore. Before, it was a welcome fantasy, and now he didn’t want to imagine a world where his rival, his crush, his roommate was not snarling at him and obsessing over his every potentially evil move. Baz was in the football pitch on a Sunday morning when Simon pushed him to the ground and Penelope Bunce trailed after him. She was trying to get Simon to stop. 

“This is stupid, Simon,” she had said. Simon held Baz, who was taken aback, down on the grass by pushing his hands over his head and pressing down on Baz’s wrists. Simon’s eyes were focused, and glazed over with confusion and anger. (Baz thought it was hot, but don’t tell anyone)

“Simon! Get off of him!” Penelope ran over and pulled the blond off of Baz, who still hadn’t fully reacted beyond “huh? wha— OOF!”

“You’re up to something! Why aren’t you even fighting back?” Simon yelled. Penelope restrained him. Baz smirked. He was glad that he never messed with her (it had been a popular suggestion: muck up Bunce’s life to get to Snow. For whatever reason, it never seemed right to him. He’d always rather go straight to the source, because any other way seemed like cheating, and he wasn’t one for simplicity).

“I’m sorry, Basil, I really tried to stop him,” she said. “He’s been upset for weeks.” She started to drag Simon away. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Snow,” Baz tried to say, coolly. 

“Liar!” Simon yelled back. 

_Only up until now,_ Baz thought, _only up until now._


	2. Chapter 2

He and Simon didn’t cross paths until that night, back in the room. Baz spent most of his day in Niall’s playing cards. (He still thought of Snow. He thought of how amazed Simon was that the face cards actually jumped up and played for themselves, as if it was the only deck in the whole world capable. Simon’s wide eyes and open mouth were adorable. Baz made himself stop thinking about it.) Simon was there when Baz opened the door, on his bed, reading a book with a faded front cover.

Simon was watching everything that Baz did, and he wasn’t even being politely discreet about it. 

“All right, Snow, what do you want me to do? Dance around a bit? You’re very obviously watching for something and I’m worried I’ll disappoint. So tell me, what is it?” Baz asked, after a long time of deciding what to say and how to layer the distaste and non-interest in his tone. 

Simon huffed in response, slammed the book onto his nightstand, and turned out the light. Baz was fine with Simon being so angry and dismissive; it made coping with his infantile infatuation a little easier. 

In the coming weeks, he rarely ever saw Simon. They’d see each other in passing in the room, but Snow would scowl every time they made eye contact. Step two of his Simon Snow detox was to simply detach from everyone that talked about Simon Snow, which was hard seeing as everyone cared so bloody much about the damned prophecy and “Chosen One” business. This meant no Dev and no Niall. It meant excuses. (A hell of a lot of excuses.) It meant staying in the library alone while the other boys were on the field. Eventually, it meant Agatha Wellbelove taking note of him. 

“Basil?” She’d approached him on a particularly sunny day, holding a pile of Politickal Science books, using that soft, irresistible voice of hers. “May I sit?” 

You didn’t just _look_ at Agatha Wellbelove, you basked in everything that was the loveliest witch at Watford– even if she was Simon Snow’s best friend. She had a way about her that made her impossible to dislike. Baz had surmised once that it was a charm, something advanced, something she’d put on herself every morning like perfume. 

“Snow send you to spy on me, did he?” he asked with a smile. Agatha smirked as she set her books on her table. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Baz froze. He would have choked, but he wasn’t sure what Agatha was insinuating. Instead he sat back and scoffed. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not, mortal enemies and all that,” she replied. She took the top book from her pile and thumbed quickly through the pages, obviously looking for something. “You know, most everyone thinks Penelope is the smartest of us, but I was the one that could tell Micah fancied her. She didn’t know why he kept pairing off every time he had a chance…” 

“What are you saying, Wellbelove?”

“What I’m saying, _Pitch_ , is that I may not notice everything that Penelope or Simon do, but I may see a thing or two that they miss.”

Baz didn’t say anything. 

“Romeo and Juliet had warring families, too,” Agatha whispered, reaching for Baz’s hand.

“And they both ended up dead,” Baz hissed back, pulling his hand away. 

They sat in silence before Agatha said “I can help you.” 

“I’m doing very well on my own, thank you,” he replied. 

“Oh, my mistake, you’re right. Simon’s lovely limp shows how well capable you are of handling your emotions.”

Baz balled up his fists and Agatha sighed. 

“Are you happy like this, Basil? Sneaking around, scowling, bottling everything up?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I can help you. He’s thick. He’s doing everything he thinks is the ‘right’ thing. But trust me, he hasn’t realised yet that the right thing isn’t what he wants. I think he–” 

“Pardon me, but aren’t you dating him?”

Agatha’s pale cheeks reddened. “It’s complicated.”

“I don’t think Snow would say so.”

“Like I said, Simon does what he thinks is right. He rarely ever does what he wants.” She looked out of the window, and the sunlight shined directly on her (because Agatha Wellbelove’s life is straight out of a damn princess film). “I want him to be happy.” 

“Why do you think he’s not happy?”

“Crowley, Basil, you don’t hear how he obsesses over you. How whenever we go anywhere he’s looking for you. He’s either paranoid or repressing something bigger. Look, if I’m wrong then you have a good laugh and something to use against me, but if I’m right…” Agatha trailed off and tilted her head with a smile, leaving Baz to do what he’d been stopping himself from doing: imagine holding Simon Snow, imagine kissing Simon Snow, imagine loving Simon Snow outwardly and completely. 

“Have you got a plan?” he asked her. His voice was so soft that only she could hear him. And then, Agatha Wellbelove grinned like a thief.


End file.
